


Shadowzone

by Ratchet171



Series: Shifting Sorrows [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Dark, shadowzone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ratchet171/pseuds/Ratchet171
Summary: Some things are best left forgotten.





	Shadowzone

**Author's Note:**

> Slight AU. I took some liberties with aspects of the shadowzone.
> 
> You may consider this within the same timeline as Shifting Sorrows. Doesn't matter really.

 

_Thoughts_

**Chronometer**

* * *

_Best left forgotten. Good riddance._

They didn't have to say it for it to be implied. Ratchet wasn't surprised. A Decepticon was exactly that. An enemy. There was a clear divider between good and evil, right? If you so happened to be on the wrong side, tough luck. Sometimes that line blurred a bit to a medic. His job was to save lives not take them. Sometimes that meant doing the right thing when no one else would.

* * *

_Shadowzone_

Slipping through the portal his optics were met with darkness. As his optics attempted to adjust to the gloom he glanced around warily. It was the same place he just was, though not quite the same. There was an eerie feel to the air, a stillness. His EM field hugged closer to his frame as he tried not to shiver from the lack of existence.

_A different realm._

He could barely make out the shape of the room, able to see no farther than a few clicks in front of himself. His internal chronometer blinked with a reminder.

**15 Breems.**

He was on a time limit before the portal closed. Deciding to make this as short a trip as possible he carefully stepped over cables and stayed nearest to the wall working his way into the hall. Even with the lack of light he was fairly comfortable navigating the ship. For all that he expected, silence was not one of them. The ship was usually teemingwith life. Even with the lack of activity there was usually the clicks of subsystems within the ship blending into the background.

**14 Breems.**

Though he was fairly sure he was alone he could not help but try to muffle his pede steps. It didn't feel right to disturb the quiet. Not that he could if he tried. Every sound he made seemed to dissolve from existence as if it did not belong.

**13 Breems.**

Taking a few turns now and then, he was consistently met with cables. Snaking from loose panels overhead, doorways, anywhere they could coil. The ship seemed ancient in a way it should not. Floors were scuffed and dust coated every surface. He doubted anyone,  _anything,_ had been here in a long time.  _Soundwave either left by now or is in a lower deck._ Hardly a surprise, these hallways connected to the main control center on an upper floor. He doubted any of the systems were functional, if he could even touch them. He wasn't quite sure what previously happened in the shadowzone but he wasn't willing to stay long enough to find out.

**12 Breems.**

He decided heading down to the first level was his best bet at finding Soundwave. Turning down another corridor he headed towards a stairwell only to be met with rubble and twisted metal. Carefully, he managed to climb his way down without falling.

**11 Breems.**

The shadows suddenly seemed much thicker down here, musty air choking its way into his vents. The air almost felt heavy with the weight of his consciousness. He wasn't sure what state Soundwave would be in when he was found.  _If he is found._ Logically, a mech could only last so long without energon. He wouldn't be surprised if he found no more than an empty frame. Given the time they had left him trapped here, he shouldn't be alive. That didn't stop Ratchet from trying. He activated his headlights. To s _erve and protect. A whole lot of good that did for me..._

**10 Breems.**

He was momentarily startled when a shadow moved in the edge of his vision. Not a shadow, a figure. Bumblebee. He shouldn't be surprised but he is. He could barely make out the shape of the scout but there was no mistaking the yellow paint job. From what he could remember Miko complaining about, they couldn't interact with any of them. He wasn't sure if that applied now but the scout hadn't noticed him so far. Ratchet could see him approaching clearer now, obviously on night patrol. He didn't acknowledge Ratchet in the slightest as he edged around his form, less than eager to find out if what the children had claimed was true. No sound came from Bumblebee's pedes as his figure faded into the darkness.

**9 Breems.**

_Where would Soundwave be hiding?_ He was running out of time and had yet to see even a trace of the Decepticon's presence anywhere.  _Perhaps he's down near the storage rooms? It's close to the labs. That's where I'd go first._ With a little more determination he quickened his pace down the corridor.

**8 Breems.**

Energon. Tilting his headlights to the side he could faintly see more of it coating the walls. It was a dusky blue hue at this point, dried and caked onto the panels. It seemed to be more splattered in some areas, something he would expect to see from a fight or struggle. His tanks churned at the implications his processor suggested.  _Was something else down here?_

**7 Breems.**

As a medic, energon hardly phased him anymore, but the implications still plagued him.  _We did this to him._ Approaching the storage area, he took a shaky intake to steady himself and pried open the rusted greeted him made his vents stall.

**6 Breems.**

_He didn't deserve this._ His headlights gave the only illumination he could see. Energon and scratches coated every surface. He couldn't tell whether they were incidental or not. Formulas, messages, symbols. Everywhere. Stepping further into the room he could see the full extent of the damage. Formulas for space bridge engineering cleanly printed across boards and panels. The cybertronian letters seemed to merge together and slur the further down he looked, eventually ending in symbols and illegible writing. Messages were scratched into the floor paneling.  _Trapped. No Escape. Help._ He couldn't bring himself to read the rest.

**5 Breems.**

Contrary to his expectations, he found no frame among the wreckage.  _He was looking for a way out before… Something happened. There should at least be some kind of...evidence? A frame, anything. Clearly there was a struggle. Did he escape? If he escaped he'd most likely go to the med bay first if he didn't bleed out before then._

**4 Breems.**

_I have to hurry._ Hustling back the way he came, he turned down an alternate hallway. Approaching the med bay doors, he halted briefly to take in the scratches and trails of dried energon pooled beneath the door.  _He's here._ This time the door slid aside easily of its own accord.

**3 Breems.**

_Soundwave._

What he meant to call out only came as a soundless gasp. The Decepticon's frame lay tattered beneath the monitors. It was hard to tell if it was even his frame with all the energon painting the outside of it. It looked to be more a mess of cables and crushed plating. He rushed forward, checking for any activity that would suggest the Decepticon was still alive. He found his visor, all but shattered to the side of his mangled corpse. Further away, his Decepticon insignia, which he promptly placed in his subspace. Scanning the frame, he was able to detect a faint spark pulse.  _Too faint._

_Soundwave?_

His vents stalled for a moment. No sound came from his vocalizer. He tried again but no noise greeted him. A weight settled on him as he came to a realization.

_This place… The energon. The messages._

**2 Breems.**

_Self inflicted. Why doesn't this faze me. This was our doing. We knew he would die. We knew this would happen. Why did I wait so long?_

A faint light from the corner of his optic snapped his attention forward. Purple optics met blue.  _Soundwave._ His optics stared at him intently as if he wasn't two clicks away from death's door. For a moment, it was as if they were old friends rather than two mechs of opposing factions. Nothing else existed but those amethyst optics. Then, it was gone. His frame stilled and grew cold as Ratchet knelt there, optics still locked upon the ashen faceplates. He felt frozen.

_You didn't deserve this._

**1 Breem.**

* * *

Stepping out of the portal, Ratchet glanced around. It wasn't quite as dark as before, though still empty. He made his way to the med bay, not surprised to see it empty as well. Walking past the monitors, he had to hold back a shiver at the reminder of what lay there.  _I won't be forgetting that anytime soon._ Keying open his office, he stood in the doorway for a moment. Opening his subspace, he took out Soundwave's insignia.  _To serve and protect._ Just another reminder of his failures.  _Can't save them all._

"You're awfully quiet today."

He turned, slightly startled to see Knock Out.

"Knock Out? When did you get here?"

Knock Out cocked his hips slightly refraining from rolling his optics. "I've been here the whole time. Honestly Ratchet, you act as if your audio receptors have rusted over. Also, Bumblebee needs a patch. Tripped or some other on night patrol. I have reports to file."

Still too shaken to bother responding, Ratchet watched him stride away to the monitors before glancing back at his servo.

_Some things are best left forgotten._

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite where I was heading with this. R&R.


End file.
